Victim
by Hisashi Loves Yelen
Summary: It involves two Slam Dunk characters. ...Okay, duh. One of them was harrassed by a gang of delinquents. The other happened to pass by and... [One-shot]


_A/N: Uh, yeah. The tone changed towards the end. It was deliberate. This fic was supposed to cure me of writer's block but I'm not sure if it's worked. And contrary to what I believe would be popular perception, this is not yaoi. Lastly, a review would be greatly appreciated._

Victim

It was all happening so quickly. One moment melted and fused into the next, like quicksand, the seconds of time rushing out, all at once, to meet the sunrise, before they crashed and burned. Now things wouldn't be as bad if he had an idea of what was going on… but he didn't. 

He remembered little. It wasn't surprising, given his tendency to shut out the world around him, but strangely, he wished he'd paid attention before the world was tilted a hundred and eighty degrees. He remembered walking out of school with his bag hoisted over one shoulder, his hand in his pocket. He remembered cursing himself for wrecking his latest bicycle – a gift from dear old dad, whom he hadn't seen in months. He remembered turning nonchalantly into a deserted corner, oblivious to the motorcycles parked haphazardly against the rustic walls. 

He didn't remember hearing shouts. Neither did he remember seeing anybody around. 

He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that there was a fight going on. A gang of smug, smirking morons – complete eyesores, really – surrounding one poor victim, kicking and beating the life out of him, hurling abuses at him, as if they wanted him dead. 

He didn't get a look at the victim, but he knew what was happening anyway, for it was the way they worked. They carried no weapons, but they didn't need to. Not when it was ten against one. 

"What do you say? Stand up and fight me like a man!" 

Ooh. Scary. He rolled his eyes at who he presumed was the gang leader and his false bravado, and silently sniggered at how cliché and, frankly, hilarious those words were. In fact, this scene was almost something entirely out of a bad, recycled 'B' grade Hollywood movie. Not worth his time at all. 

The gang leader delivered a vicious kick to the victim's stomach, causing the victim to double over and hit his back against the wall. The impact of the victim's bones against tough concrete was so heavy that he sensed it, felt it, albeit reluctantly, but he received it anyway and, against his will, acknowledged it. 

He sighed. He was involved now. He did a quick scan and, seeing the sad figures they call men in front of him, decided that he could probably take them all on. It was time for a rescue operation. 

Darn that conscience. 

He sauntered nonchalantly forward, his bag still hoisted over his shoulder. At the back of his mind a fleeting thought told him that he was practically signing his own death sentence, but he ignored it. He simply didn't care. 

He stood directly behind the gang leader, who was now holding a metal rod that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and getting ready to assault the victim. He still couldn't see the victim, for the gang leader's gargantuan, asymmetrical body blocked him from sight. But there was something about the way that this scene was so screwed up, almost as if it were a joke, which seriously pissed him off. 

He didn't care that he didn't know who he was saving. He extended his free hand and grabbed the metal rod, just as the gang leader was about to bring it down to the victim's head. 

The gang leader was surprised, and that was putting it mildly. The gang leader spun around, only to be met with his aloof and detached face. 

"Nani? Who the hell are you?" the gang leader sputtered. 

He almost laughed. Did he ever mention how terribly cliché this whole scene was? 

Not bothering with a reply, he twisted the rod downwards and yanked it out of the gang leader's hand, causing him to yell out in surprise. He noted with satisfaction that the gang leader was a head shorter than him, and the gang leader seemed to have also noticed, for he took a small tentative step backwards. 

Now that their leader was unsure, the rest of the gang were beginning to back away from their victim. He glanced casually at the victim on the ground. The victim's face was bruised and bloodied, his eyes tired and wearied. 

He was about to revert his attention back to the half-life in front of him when he realised something. The victim looked familiar, as if he might be someone he knew. He looked at the victim again, and… 

…he was right. It was him. 

He was confused. Bewildered. He couldn't understand why. The victim was _kneeling_, as if he was _begging_ for something. It was pathetic. It made him sick. What happened to pride? What happened to _dignity_? How could he bear to lower and degrade himself like that? 

It was disgusting. And it pissed him off even more. 

"You jerk," he muttered as he glared coldly at the gang leader. Without waiting for a reply, he delivered a punch squarely on the gang leader's jaw, enjoying the tingling sensation in his knuckles when it made contact with the low-life's bones. 

The gang leader lost his balance and fell onto the ground. His sheep gasped at the sight, and instead of fighting back, they stayed rooted on the spot and did nothing. 

He was not afraid. He saw no reason to fear a flock of mindless, brainless fluffy white animals. He didn't even care about them, nor did he care about the gang leader. 

All he could think of was the victim on the ground. 

"What the hell is your problem?" the gang leader yelled as he sprang to his feet. "This is between Mitsui and I! It's none of your business!" 

Yes. Mitsui. Mitsui Hisashi. His teammate. His goddamn senior. _He_ was saving Mitsui's ass. 

What did he say about this scene being a total joke? 

"You talk too much." 

With that, he gave the gang leader another punch, this time in the stomach, this time much harder, for he was in the mood, and the gang leader, once again, fell to the ground. This time, he didn't get up. 

Still clutching the metal rod, he walked towards the victim. Mitsui. His senior. 

Ignoring the gaping mouths around him, he extended his hand towards Mitsui. 

It took a while for Mitsui to respond. At first, he didn't seem to have seen him. Mitsui's eyes were fixed on the ground, and when he eventually lifted them to take in the sight before him, he seemed to be in a daze, as if he was gone, spiritually. It was some time before Mitsui registered what was going on. 

He was silent, waiting for Mitsui to respond. Mitsui looked at him, his expression unreadable. 

Finally, Mitsui took his hand. 

"Rukawa." 

** 

The journey back to Mitsui's apartment would have been long and tedious if it weren't for Rukawa's driver, who responded to his call gladly, for he was going crazy with nothing to do. They didn't worry about the rest of the gang. For some reason, they were humbled and they cleared a path for them when Rukawa supported a limping Mitsui out of the alley and to the main street. 

Neither of them talked on the way out. Neither of them talked in the car either. For Rukawa, it was normal, but Mitsui… He didn't sleep. Didn't even close his eyes. He stared out of the window and said nothing. 

** 

"Hey, Rukawa…" 

"Yeah?" 

A pause. And then, 

"Thanks." 

"…You're welcome." 

Rukawa said it softly, but Mitsui heard it loud and clear. 

** 

"Mitsui." 

"What?" 

"Who were those guys?" 

Mitsui sighed. It sounded impatient and reluctant. 

"I thought you were leaving?" 

Rukawa shuffled his feet. 

"I saved your ass." 

"And because of that I owe you something?" 

Rukawa's eyes were cold. Hard. Angry. 

"_Yes_." 

** 

Mitsui knew who they were. They used to run with Tetsuo's gang, back when they all stuck together, before Mitsui re-joined the basketball team and before tension broke out between Tetsuo and their gang leader. They stopped dropping by after a fight in a pub that turned messy, and Mitsui hadn't seen nor heard from them ever since. Until now. 

They picked on him because they knew he was close to Tetsuo. They also knew about his re-joining the basketball team. They thought he'd be an easy victim. 

And he was. No matter how much he wanted to fight back. 

** 

"You didn't fight back." 

It was a statement. No need for an answer.   
  
"No, I didn't." 

"You could have." 

"Yes, I could have. And I would have won." 

Rukawa thought, _I know_. Aloud he said, 

"Why didn't you?" 

Mitsui fiddled with the doorknob. He avoided Rukawa's eyes. But as he opened his mouth to answer, he knew it was the truth. 

"Because I made Anzai-sensei a promise. And I intend to keep it." 

-End-   
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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